Indiana Jones and the Riddle of The Peacock's Eye
by For You Blue
Summary: Post KotCS. After being reunited with an old acquaintance, Indiana Jones finds himself on the trail of an even older friend, the famed diamond known only as The Eye of the Peacock. *updated* Chapter 3 is now up.
1. Bedford, Connecticut, September 1959

**Indiana Jones **

**The Riddle of The Peacock's Eye**

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**Summary**:

Set two years after KotCS. After being reunited with an old acquaintance, Indiana Jones finds himself on the trail of an even older friend, the famed diamond known as _The Eye of the Peacock_.

Accompanied by his son, Mutt, Indy sets out to recover the diamond that keeps slipping from his fingers. The adventure of a lifetime turns itself into a mysterious, transcontinental journey of enlightenment and change, where relationships are tested and new bonds forged.

And above all, the mystery, and true value, of the _Peacock's eye_ will finally be brought to light; but not without its dangerous secret, and the lust for the famous gem a well known enemy hoards.

But hey, if you're traveling alongside the man with the hat, a little trouble's bound to follow.

Right?

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**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything associated with Indiana Jones...however, if Lucasfilm and Mr Spielberg are willing to negotiate, I'll take Harrison circa 1981, or Shia right now.

But in all seriousness, the characters are propriety of Lucasfilm, I'm just having a bit of fun.

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**I **

_Bedford, Connecticut, September 1959_

**T**here was warm sunlight streaming through the windows of _Marshall College. _The windows were cracked open in the small lecture room and a scented breeze wafted through the room.

For all purposes, the blue skied view from the open windows looked distractingly like a day that should be spent outside the stuffy room, either lounging around on the grass somewhere, or preferably stretched out on a beach, catching some rays and eying off the local eye-candy.

Henry Walton Jones III, (a mouthful of a name the young man had only just started to adjust to,) otherwise known as Mutt Jones, (previously Williams,) tapped his pencil boredly on the desk in front of him. The ideas of what he could be doing if not trapped in "_The Professor's class of Doom_," (as he referred to Archaeology 101,) flooding his light brown, coiffed haired head. He turned from his desk tapping to distractedly doodling on the notebook in front of him.

Mutt glanced down at the young woman just in front of him, a tall blonde in a fitted yellow dress with a white daisy print_. A total babe that is totally worth flirting with_, Jones thought with a smirk, eyeing off the girl's curves with such great concentration, that quickly drowned out whatever the Professor at the front of the class was rambling on about...

"Mister Jones?"

Mutt didn't bother lifting his head, obviously he wasn't being addressed, (forgetting in his scoping of the girl in front of him, that _Jones_ was now his surname.)

"Henry Walton Jones the third, I'm addressing you young man!"

The voice was louder and this time, the owner of the name was quickly shaken out of his revere and all but fell out of his chair, clambering to get back into his wooden chair.

Mutt looked around to see just about all of the class was staring at him with amusement as he finally found his seat.

"Um," Mutt picked up his pencil and then turned his gaze down the couple of rows to where the lecturer, a good-looking older man, of about sixty, eyed him with a plain expression; but there was clearly a hidden smirk on the Professor's face. "Oh, yeah...I mean, yes Professor?"

The lecturer folded his arms over his chest and lent against his desk, dressed in a brown suit and a bow-tie finishing off the professional looking outfit, the man never-the-less looked very imposing at that moment, and Mutt swallowed hard.

_Oh boy, Pops is gunna throw a curve-ball at me_...

"Name the short, epileptic, left-handed Albanian, who is one of the most influential people to have ever live?" The lecturer invoked, his hazel-eyes burrowing into the panicked gaze of the younger man, dressed in a blue ringer t-shirt, converses and cuffed jeans.

Mutt smiled in relief and stared right back, "Alexander the Great, Dr Jones. Son of Phillip the second, conqueror of many lands, and the man who brought both the ring-necked parrot and bananas to Europe," he added, causing a few chuckles around him. And, even the attention of the pretty blonde he'd been eying in front of him, Mutt winked at the young woman as the Professor cleared his throat.

"That's very good Mister Jones," Dr Jones replied, raising an eyebrow. "However, you're not going to get very far in my class by being a smarty-pants. You're all dismissed, except for Mister Jones," the lecturer pointed at Mutt, who's smug look dropped and he slumped in his chair.

As the class galloped down the stairs and out the door, the blonde girl in the yellow dress turned around in the door-way and smiled in Mutt's direction, before following one of her blabbering friends out the door.

Mutt growled as he stood up out of his chair and grabbed his books, stepping half-way down the stairs and eying off the Associate Dean; who had made his way back over to his desk chair and was sitting down in it, hands resting on-top of the desk as he stared right back at the younger man.

"Dad, what was all that about? Two classes into the semester and you've _already_ started picking on me?"

Professor Henry Walton Jones Junior, better known by Indiana Jones, smirked. "I can't go playing favorites sonny-boy. You were more interested in looking down that blonde girl's dress then early Mayan fertility practices; I punished you no differently from any other student..."

Mutt raised his eyebrows, "but you haven't _given_ me any punishment yet!"

Indiana laughed and pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose, "you just walk straight into these things, don't you junior?" He chuckled and Mutt smacked his forehead as he fell back into a nearby chair.

"I think you can head back home for now, kid. I'll let you know the penalty over dinner tonight. Go on, scoot."

Mutt pursed his lips, "let me guess, over dinner means half of the punishment is telling Mum about this as well, right?" He questioned his father, Indy picked up a couple of books and loose papers, ruffling his disgusted son's hair as he walked towards the exit.

"Smart kid. But no-one ever said us Jones boys were dull," Indiana winked as he opened up the door, waiting as his only child get to his feet and brushed past him, a disbelieving expression on the twenty-one-year-old's tanned features.

Indy shut the door and caught up with his son further down the hall, who's expression had changed and his father smiled slightly.

In the two years he'd gotten to know his adult son, Indiana was surprised to see not only himself in the kid, but also his own father and even Abner Ravenwood, (Marion's old man and his former Professor.) But more than anything else, there was the Jones tenacity and Indy was quite pleased with that.

"You don't talk about your old man much," Mutt said suddenly.

Indiana glanced over at his son with a raised eyebrow, _was the kid a mind reader_? "Hmm?"

Mutt scratched his chin, "old man Jones, you know, Gramps? I've never even seen a photograph of him..."

Indy dodged a passing student and shrugged, "I have one on my desk in the study," he replied, Mutt shrugged, "yeah, I know you avoid anywhere where studying takes place like the plague."

It was true, convincing, and then struggling through senior year at the local High School with, Mutt had been an up-hill battle for all involved, including the youngest Jones himself.

But, luckily, Mutt had picked up the love of Archaeology from both sides of the family, and found a niche in Classical studies and an interest in his father's 'unconventional' work. So with the promise of a hands-on involvement with Indy's vocation as well as classes, Mutt had graduated High School and had just started at _Marshall College_.

Marion Ravenwood-Jones had never been prouder of her, "_baby-boy_," and Professor Harold Oxley, (who had had a hand in raising Mutt,) bragged of the Jones boy, like he was some sort of prodigy, to all of the faculty at Cambridge.

Oxley was already planning to have Mutt, all but dragged, over to England at the end of his studies at Marshall, to study at Oxford and Cambridge as Indy had done.

Indiana himself was quite proud of his, "_semi-delinquent_," son; and was happy he had someone close to pass his knowledge onto. More than anything else, he'd worried about leaving this world without having anyone to pass on the Jones legacy, but fate had been more than kind in giving him back Marion, and their son.

Indy put an arm over Mutt's shoulders, "tell you what junior, when we get home I'll dig up some old stuff from the attic, you'd probably get a kick out of some of the stuff up there. There's a lot of your Grandpa's stuff I stored away when he didn't come back—"

"Whoa, whoa," Henry Jones the III interrupted, pulling back from his father's one armed embrace, "didn't come back? From where? I just thought he died of old age or somethin'!"

Indiana nodded grimly as they exited out of the College entrance and stopped just before the stairs, "no, your Grandpa was _presumed_ dead. They couldn't find any trace of him, but they brought back his belongings," he admitted, Mutt's mouth hung open in shock and Indy rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I probably should have brought it up earlier with you, kid. But between everything that happened after you and your Mom moved in after the wedding, then there was your school work, and all the endless crap that comes with being Associate Dean now..."

Mutt nodded, "yeah, I guess. But still, _major_ information daddy-o," he pointed out, Indy nodded again and sighed.

"Yeah. How about we talk more about this when we get home?"

-xxx-

"...and they really found no trace of Gramps apart from his umbrella, his diary and a few scribbled notes in Ancient Greek?" Mutt questioned as he followed his father up the ladder into the attic of the Jones' residence.

Indiana jumped up onto the wooden floor-boards and hoisted his son up after him.

"Yep, junior. It's like the old dog himself just vanished into the twilight zone," Indy said fondly, thinking how annoyed Henry Jones Senior would be trapped in some dimension, (especially if it was somewhere where he couldn't make fun of his son now having a delinquent of a child himself.)

At the word dog, there was a whining and a bark from below.

Mutt crouched down and stuck his head over the entrance to the attic to look down at where a big, fluffy, black and white malamute dog, (a little more than a puppy,) was wagging its tail enthusiastically and pawing at the ladder.

"Diana, you can't climb up here silly girl," Mutt admonished. The big dog barked in response, for good measure, then sat back down on her haunches, staring up at her master and wagging her tail so it thumped loudly on the ground beneath her.

Indiana the II was a devoted creature, and was the first Christmas gift Indy had ever bought his previously unknown son; it seemed only fitting to carry on the family tradition of malamutes and Jones sons.

Mutt got back to his feet and wondered over through the semi-darkness, to where his father had a torch in his mouth as he went to lift up a heavy box, his son jumped over to help him lower it to the ground, Indy removed the torch from his mouth and pointed it down at the box. It was just labeled: _**Dad & various.**_

Both Jones crouched down and Indy opened up the box, Mutt coughed from the dust and Indiana averted his face to let out a sneeze before they both peered back down to examine the contents. There were the aforementioned, dusty black umbrella belonging to Henry Jones Senior, which Mutt picked up and tossed aside, Indiana pulled out a leather bound diary and smiled at his son.

"Your Grandpa's grail diary," Indy pulled back the elastic and flipped it open, Mutt staring down at the intricate drawings and delicate handwriting with interest as his father skimmed through the diary. "Every clue he ever uncovered about the location of the Grail, every one he ever followed..."

Mutt pointed down at the diary before his father could flip another page, "Dad, there's pages torn out."

Indy inclined his head, "they were the map to the location your Grandpa discovered. He didn't know the name at the time, but I discovered it was Alexandretta," he nodded. "The Nazis were after the Holy Grail and kidnapped your Grandpa. I rescued him but we were trapped and they stole this diary, but," Indiana tapped his head. "I'd torn out the pages with the map and gave them to Marcus Brody."

Mutt grinned, "clever. Wow, Nazis...so let me guess, you got away and rescued Brody right?" He guessed, Indy winced and his son raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

Dr Jones almost laughed, his son managing to sound almost exactly like his Grandpa Jones, "well we got away, but Marcus got caught. We had to make our way to the old Alexandretta, which was rebuilt as the city of Iskenderun, (which was under Hatay rule at the time,) and chase the Nazis through the desert to the location of the Holy Grail..."

"Whoa, whoa," Mutt's eyebrows shot up on his forehead, "_the_ Holy Grail? You kiddin' me?"

Indiana nodded with a soft smile, "not in the slightest. Hey, I would have thought you would believe something like this after the story your Mom and I've told you about the Ark of the Covenant?"

Mutt exhaled, "you're like a freakin' Greek hero or something, seriously. Anyway...did you actually see the Grail?" He asked excitedly, Indy inclined his head.

"A simple cup of a carpenter, guarded by a knight from the First Crusade. I drank from the grail..."

"So now you're freakin' immortal too?" Mutt threw up his hands in mock surrender to the idea.

Indiana chuckled at the alarmed expression on his only child's face, "no quite. Once you stepped over the seal in the location you weren't 'freakin'' immortal anymore; I think, though, it may have helped me survive that nuclear blast in only a fridge that I told you about," he shook his head at the memory.

"A good amount of resilience I guess. But anyway, I poured some over your Grandpa wounds, he'd been shot by a Nazi, and we escaped but the Grail was...lost," Indiana handed the diary to his son, "here, it may come in handy for Medieval literature if you take it next semester."

Mutt grinned, "cool, thanks," he traced his hands over the worn leather, "forty years of work, now a glorified text-book for his bum of a Grandson." The youngest Jones winked at his father, Indiana put his hand on his son's shoulder.

"No, a gift and an inheritance to his Grandson and namesake," Indy reaffirmed. "Your Grandpa went missing near Glastonbury, England. He'd been searching around there before for Arthurian myths, I went once with him, but this time he was after the location of Avalon.

"He'd been poking around in some caves, nearby villagers went searching for your Grandpa after he still hadn't returned a week later, they found some of his items, but no trace of him, like I mentioned before. He'd been convinced of a connection between the Greek-Atlantinians and the ancient Celts, which would explain the magnetic properties of the Avalon myth, i.e. the boats drawn to it," Indiana explained, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Personally I've always been in the school of thought that there's a connection between the tribes to the north of India, like the Nepalese, and the Celts. But who knows? I poured over those notes of Ancient Greek your Gramps left, but I couldn't make any sense of them. It's as much as a mystery as your Grandfather Abner's disappearance I'm afraid."

Mutt nodded and looked down into the box.

"Is that you with Gramps?" The young man pulled out a worn photo-frame, in it was a stern looking, dark-haired man in a bowler hat, with a well trimmed beard and driving an old-fashioned car; seated beside the man was a young, good-looking teenager, who looked miserably aside.

Indiana took the photograph from his son and brushed off the dust, "yeah. I have a better copy on my desk; it was taken in nineteen-twelve, soon after we moved to Utah, a year later your Grandmother died. Your Grandpa thought the fresh air and change would do me some good while your Grandmother was in the hospital," he explained.

Mutt looked at the photograph, "you were only fourteen when Grandma died? Do you have a photograph of her?" He asked, Indiana nodded and reached into the box, pulling out a small, carved rose-wood box and passing it to his son.

"It's here, along with some of your Grandmother's jewelery. If you ever have a daughter, you can give them to her," Indy smiled as his son opened up the box and pulled out a small picture of a tall, fair-haired woman in Edwardian garb; the lady had a wide, close-mouth smile and a large, flower-covered hat. "That's her, Anna Mary Jones."

Mutt ran his finger along the woman's face, "she's pretty, I can't believe woman used to walk around with all this clothing on," he placed the photograph back in the box atop various jewellery, including hair-combs and delicate pendants. Indy took back the grail diary and turned to one of the first pages.

"Here, your Gramps kept her obituary photograph as well as a young photograph of your Grandmother with me as a baby in the front," Indiana showed the items to his son and passed back the diary. "Jeze, I really need to clear out some of this stuff..." The professor muttered as he turned his attention back to the cardboard box.

Mutt shut the rose-wood box and placed it and diary on the ground, before turning back to where his father was pulling various items out of the box, he looked down at one of the framed photographs.

"Hey, when was this one taken?" Mutt held up a photograph and Indy stopped his rummaging to look at the item himself and chuckled.

"Not long after we escaped the Hatay desert after the Grail incident, I think it's before we left Turkey. There's your Grandpa and that's Marcus Brody. The big, bearded man in the fez is a very good friend of your mother's and I, Sallah; and there's your old man," Indiana tapped the glass and Mutt smirked.

"Jeez, I do look a lot like you did when you were younger. I don't know why I didn't notice it when we met; it's probably because I'm better looking," he placed the photograph down, Indiana grunted in reply and threw something at Mutt, who caught the item with surprise.

It was a soft, brown fedora, very similar to the infamous one Indiana hardly ever seemed to be without, but in much better condition.

"It's my back-up in case I ever lose mine. It hasn't happened in forty-seven years, but you never know. Put it on," Indy suggested, Mutt rolled his eyes, but placed it on his head.

"There, now you look like a Jones. I want it kept in your room in case I lose mine, and don't get any funny ideas about wearing it to any digs or other public places with me, kid; unless you want us to look like twins."

Mutt grimaced, "no problems with _that_, daddy-o. Can I wear it when you're not around?" He asked, Indy nodded and turned back to digging through the box of items, "cool." Mutt gathered up a pile of items including the Grail diary.

"I'm just gunna take this stuff downstairs to get a better look in some decent light."

Indy waved his hand dismissively, "go right ahead junior, I'll bring down some more stuff when I find it...I've got some photographs from my childhood around here somewhere with Ned Lawrence and a few with Mr Roosevelt..."

Mutt rolled his eyes, "right, everyone has photographs of themselves with Lawrence of Arabia and Theodore Roosevelt just lying around," he'd heard stories from his father of the famous people he'd met.

As a teenager, Mutt had read _Seven Pillars of Wisdom _almost religiously. To know that his father had known T.E Lawrence personally had been mind boggling; having been gifted the personalized, signed, first edition owned by Indiana on his twenty-first had left Mutt at a loss for words. (Not that the former greaser would admit such a thing..._ever_...not even to his Mum...she knew though...so did his Pops, or so Mutt was warrant to bet.)

Indiana lifted his gaze over to his son and chuckled, "wait till you see my photograph with Harry Houdini from the first flight made in Australia," he shot-back, Mutt groaned in mock annoyance and made all but a run for the attic exit.

"My only real interest in Australia are the chicks I've heard about," Henry Jones III replied, climbing half-way down the ladder, he stopped and climbed back up a couple of rungs to address his father, who was piling up more items tediously atop one another. "_Are_ they hot?"

The older Jones glanced over his shoulder, "hmm? Oh yeah, some parts of Australia. like the central deserts, are..."

"No Pops, I mean the chicks? You know? Girls? Women? The things you noticed before you married Mum," Mutt lent his free arm on the attic floor, Indy smirked and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Your Mom happens to _be_ a beautiful woman. Australian girls...yeah, very pretty. Great accents. Very accommodating," Indiana remembered with a wider smirk, Mutt rolled his eyes.

"Sounds great. So...any digs planned for Australia? Preferably near the beaches?"

Indy shrugged and went back to looking over photographs, "not that I've been advised of. Most of the Australian universities handle the Aboriginal artifacts. You might wanna ask Ox, though, if any of the English universities might be headed there," he replied, already distracted from the subject.

Mutt sighed, "oh well, I can wait. But seriously Dad, we are going to go to all those places eventually, right? Egypt, Africa, China, Australia...right?"

Indiana glanced over his shoulder, there was a look of concern over his son's features and a spark of almost desperation... "yeah, I'll see what I can do, but sure kid," he assured Mutt, who grinned in response and nodded his head before scrambling back down the ladder.

Indy frowned and scratched his head as he picked up a photograph of his father, "Dad, I've apologized for a lot of things I've said to you over the years; and forgiven you for a lot of things. But, I don't know if I can forgive you for basically letting me raise myself as a teenager and young man." He sighed and rubbed a dust smudge from the glass covering his father's portrait.

"I have no idea how to talk to your grandson...jeez, the kid practically landed on my lap almost full grown; and so much like me I can guarantee you're laughing a lot up there. I missed a lot and I'd like to think I can catch up, I could sure use some of your wisdom."

Indy shook his head as he gazed down into the photo of his father, who seemed to be regarding him sceptically from the grave.

"I don't know. Maybe us Jones were always meant to be stubborn sons and even more stubborn fathers."

-xxx-

Mutt made his way into the living room, he'd grabbed his leather jacket from the coat-rack on his way down the stairs, and dropped the pile of items onto the couch so he could pull on the black leather jacket embroidered with his assumed name. (Indy had all but forbidden Mutt to wear the jacket at the college.)

The coiffed-haired greaser wondered over to the RCA radio/record player and switched it on. Mutt fiddled with the radio knobs as static, various pieces of voice and music, were scanned past until the right station was finally reached and the disc-jockey's rough voice broke in, broadcast in all his gruff glory.

"_...ain't that right? Alright you cool cats and, meow, gorgeous pussy-cats, here's a new one from the Clovers that's been climbing up the charts like nobody's business: Love potion No. 9_."

Mutt grinned and turned up the volume knob.

_I took my troubles down to Madam Ruth _

_(awhoo,)_

_you know that gypsy with the gold capped tooth...?_

Henry Jones III walked back over to the pile of items and started rummaging through them, humming along to the song before joining in as he thumbed through the grail diary.

"..._on thirty fourth and vine sells little bottles of: love potion number nine."_ Mutt trailed his finger over an elaborate, painted image of a stained glass window.

"_I told her that I was a flop with chicks, I'd been that way since_..._1956_...yeah right..." The young man mumbled to himself, flopping down onto the couch and settling down to read his grandfather's perfect, handwritten notes.

-xxx-

The yellow taxi pulled to a halt in front of the 20s style house and the right-side passenger door clicked open. A slender, Asian man stepped out of the cab, dressed casually in a pair of brown slacks and a white shirt; a leather satchel slung over his chest and right shoulder.

Wan Li walked over to the taxi driver and handed him some bills through the open window, "keep the change," he informed the surly looking driver, his accent slightly traced with his native Mandarin; the driver nodded his thanks as he pulled away.

The Chinese native's expression was one of reassignment as he looked firmly at the house of his benefactor and former foster parent, he hadn't spoken to Indiana Jones in person for nearly ten years; even then it was for only a couple of hours before the government had dragged him away for something.

_No time for love_, the Shanghai native thought ironically, _thought apparently now that wasn't the case_. Willie Scott had written to Li say that she'd heard, second-hand, that Indy had tied-the-knot with somebody nearly two years ago.

Li had at first thought it was a joke, but he had some information for the Archaeologist so he'd thought he'd come down to New York and see for himself. The last time Indy had been close to getting married had been the lovely Marion Ravenwood...but he blew that one.

_Big time,_ according to Willie, whom had been invited to sing at the event and had arrived early at Indy's request because, according to him.

"_Marion doesn't keep a lot of female friends, and she likes you."_

Well it had all blown sky high when Indiana had rushed off a week before the wedding, leaving only a note.

Willie had comforted Marion that first night, the next day, however, she found Marion had packed her things and left for England to stay with Harold Oxley, another of her father's old students and a close friend.

Li made his way up the driveway and across the porch to the front door, he knocked twice but there was no answer. Loud music, with a heavy saxophone and crooning voices could be heard, slightly muffled through the door.

_...it smelt like turpentine and looked like Indian ink..._

Wan tried the door knob, twisting it and pushing it revealed the door was unlocked. Li stepped into the front entrance and closed the door gently, heading in the direction of the music, which seemed to be coming from the living room.

_...I held my nose, I closed my eyes._

_(I took a drink.)_

_I didn't know if it was day or night..._

Li peered around the door-frame to the living room and saw someone sitting on the couch, wearing a very familiar looking fedora. His nose crinkled in confusement, Indy had always liked his jazz music, but keeping up with the teenage trends? Oh well.

Wan Li strolled over to the couch and tapped the figure on the shoulder, "hey Dr Jones," he greeted, only to hear a yell in response as the occupier of the couch jumped to his feet and spun around, revealing that he certainly wasn't Dr Henry Jones Jnr.

It was a young man, who looked startlingly similar to Li's earliest memories of Indy, but with a slightly skinner build and much younger then in his thirties. The kid pulled out a switch blade and pointed it threateningly in Li's direction across the cream couch.

"Okay, I don't want any trouble. What the hell do you want buddy?" The greaser looking kid demanded, his hazel-eyes piercing and Li threw up his hands in surrender.

"Oh, hi, I'm looking for Dr Henry Jones," the Chinese man quickly informed the young man, who raised his eyebrow in response. "I'm sorry, the door was open and..."

"You wanna speak to the Professor?" The kid interrupted gruffly, Li nodded and the young man rolled his eyes, "lower your arms for Christ sake, you don't look like an intruder. You just scared the crap outa me though." The young man closed up his switch blade and jammed it into his jean pocket.

Li sighed in relief as he lowered his arms and looked steadily at the young man, "I'm sorry. With that hat on, from the back you looked like Indy..." He walked around the couch as the kid uncomfortably folded his arms over his chest. "I take it back, even from this angle I could have sworn I'd gone back in time...are you related to Indy at all?"

The young man let out a sigh of his own, "yeah. I am. I'm the Professor of doom's son, Henry Jones the third, and for the love of God don't call me that. It's Mutt," the kid introduced himself, holding out his hand.

Wan Li blinked a couple of times in amazement up at the younger man, "I don't believe it, but you look too much like him," he grasped Mutt's outstretched hand. "Dr Wan Li, your father calls me—"

"Short Round!" A deep voice interrupted and Li found himself at the other end of a massive hug from a slightly grayer, but no less impressive looking, Indiana Jones; who practically lifted up the shorter man in his exuberance. "Hey, long time no see!"

Li rolled his eyes as Indy pulled him back, "yes long time no see, I write and yet I barely hear anything from you Dr Jones," he replied with a raised brow.

Indiana pulled him into a one–armed embrace and grinned over at Mutt, "I see you've met Junior here Shorty," he smirked at his disgusted son's expression at the term 'Junior.'

Wan nodded and glanced over at Mutt, "I have. I gave him a bit of a start, I mistook him for you in that fedora; he could be your doppelganger Indy...who is his mother?" He inquired curiously as Mutt tossed the hat off his head and onto the couch with a snort.

Indy rubbed the back of his neck, "Marion Ravenwood. I married her, finally, a couple of years ago. She kept Mutt a secret from me for nearly twenty years, nice surprise huh?" He walked over and ruffled his son's carefully coiffed hair, Mutt let out a yelp of complaint.

"Hey! Watch it daddy-o," the greaser pulled out a comb and smoothed back his hair, Indy just chuckled and sat down on one of the lounge-chairs, ignoring the glare from his son.

Li chuckled as he walked over to the oppose lounge-chair, "surprise, yes. But you were always going to be a good father, Indy, I always thought so. Provided you could sit still for more than five minutes," he added with an ironic raise of his dark eyebrows.

Indiana smiled and rubbed his chin, "yeah...Mutt would you turn down that racket?" He turned to his son, who grumblingly made his way over to the radio and pulled a face as Frankie Avalon's crooning voice flooded the lounge.

_Venus? Oh Venus_...?

"How about off, Dad? If I hear that song one more time, I'm gonna hurl my guts," Mutt shuddered as he clicked off the radio, before wondering over to the couch and sprawled out on it. He glanced over to see Indy glaring at him and spun around to sit in a more civilized manner, but slouched nevertheless.

Li turned to Indy and smiled, "I've got some news for you, about the Peacock's eye—"

"_That_ old thing?" Indiana interrupted with a short laugh, "you're kidding? The last you wrote about the eye, you were scouring Hawaii for it of all places."

Mutt suddenly realized something called _The Peacock's eye_, might actually be interesting and quickly interrupted, "the Peacock's eye? What's that?"

Indy glanced over at his suddenly interested son and smiled, "a diamond, a hugely important diamond." He added, clasping his hands in front of him. "Legend has it that it was placed in the eye-socket of a golden statue of a peacock, and given as a gift to Alexander the Great.

"I've been trying to track down the thing since I was younger than you, kiddo, just after the great war ended for me."

The aging Archaeologist sighed, "it cost me a friend and I almost had once, in my hand, back in thirty-four, but I lost it. Shorty's been trying to find it almost ever since he became an Archaeologist," Indy motioned to Li, who inclined his head.

"Out of respect for your father, Mutt, I felt it was my honour to find the location of the diamond. I've definitely found something interesting, Indy." Li pulled a notebook out of his satchel and pulled a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles from his right shirt pocket and placed them on.

Flicking open the leather-bound notebook, the Chinese Archaeologist ran his finger down his carefully written notes, "according to a log book I obtained from Club Obi-Wan, Lao Che had written several notes next to an unauthorized person. Someone who signed in as one of his 'henchmen' disguised as a waiter...but apparently the man was not scheduled on." Li lifted his dark eyes up to look seriously at Indiana, who also had his eyes narrowed intently.

"Someone else was after the diamond? Or at least spying on what was going down that night between Lao Che and I...any idea where this guy was in the club when I had the meeting with Lao?" Indy inquired.

Mutt got up off the couch to stand behind Li to get a look at the notebook and glanced between the two Archaeologists as they spoke.

"On the floor, my guess is that he saw where the diamond went and captured it himself," Li rubbed his brow with his free hand. "This is when the twist starts, the waiter was definitely working for someone outside China alright, an agent in England who had been hired by someone I think you know quite well Indy." He flicked the page and removed an envelope taped to one of the pages, passing the envelope to Dr Jones.

Indiana flicked open the yellow document envelope and nodded his head with a sigh as he saw a black and white photograph of a rounded, balding, mustached old man, who looked deceivingly harmless, "Remy," he said mordantly.

Mutt lent his arms over the top of Li's lounge-chair, "your old war buddy?" The young man invoked, Indy nodded and slipped the photograph back into the envelope.

"That's right kid, he's the friend I told you I lost because of the eye. Then Remy has the diamond?" Indiana invoked, "if he does, he can keep the blasted thing to cater to his own greed, Shorty." Indy got to his feet and walked over to mantle, resting his arm atop it as he looked deep in thought.

"I told Baudouin that forty-one years ago, and I stand by those words. I'm not going to take it from him, forget it kid."

Li shut his notebook and made his way over to Dr Jones, "that's all well and good, but he doesn't have it, Indy, look," he re-opened his notebook and shoved it under the taller man's nose. "The agent stole it and fled the country, he's been jumping from country to country ever since; trying to sell the eye to anyone who could buy it, but..."

"No-one has been game enough to buy something so valuable and well known to authorities," Indiana finished, Li nodded his head, "great. So we just grab this guy the next time he tries to sell it and...and I'm guessing by the look on your face, Shorty, I'm guessing that's where we hit a snag, right?"

Li nodded his dark-haired head with a serious expression, "a big one. The guy uses false name after false name, but I have an idea who really knows who he is," Wan raised an eyebrow and Indy sighed deeply, folding his arms across his chest.

"Remy. Where is the old bastard? I'm betting you've already booked a flight?"

Wan Li smirked, "I learned from the best. His only biological daughter emigrated before the war, and Remy left in forty-eight to live with her after his wife died. He's currently residing near the Snowy Mountains in Victoria, Australia," he informed Indy.

Mutt looked gleeful, "Australia? Oh Dad, you gotta go," he said walking over to the two Archaeologists, Indiana snorted and his son put his hand on his father's shoulder, "and you gotta let me go with you guys." He insisted, his eyes gleaming in only the way he could have inherited from his father at the mention of travel and adventure.

Indy affixed his faded-eyed gaze on his only child and narrowed the aforementioned eyes, "oh no kid. Even if I do go, and I haven't said yes yet, Shorty," he added with a poignant look at his former fosterling, before turning back to his shocked looking son. "Even _if _I go, you're staying here to finish off the semester—"

"But Dad—"

"No 'buts' Junior. I'll call up your Uncle Oxley—"

Li watched on quietly as Mutt stomped his foot, "no Dad. Don't you drag the Oxman into this as if it's some sort of compensation to have him teach your classes for me. You promised that you'd take me along to digs—"

Indiana looked firmly at his son, pointing a finger in the tanned features which not only showed Jones tenacity, but also a hell of a lot of Marion Ravenwood's bull-headed stubbornness. "This is not a dig, Henry, this is—"

"Some sort of personal matter, right?" Mutt interrupted, smacking his father's finger away from his face with a growl. "Look old man, I'm your son, right? You got that? I'm not expecting to tag along like one of your good little students, I want to help...For Christ sakes, I'm a grown man—"

"Oh your _really_ acting like one right now, kid," Indy interrupted with a hiss, folding his arms again as Mutt continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"—and you've told me I'm good in a fight. I know you like to think you're this almighty figure, Dad, but you're not, you're going to need my help and I'm offering it!" Mutt concluded firmly, folding his own arms defiantly, holding his ground against his father's glare.

Indy wondered vaguely if he and Marion should have ever been able to breed, "oh so now you're telling me I'm old and incapable of surviving this trip, are you kid?"

"That's not what he's saying Indy..." Li tried to intervene, with little success as Indiana turned his narrow eyed glare on Wan with a snarl.

"Damned if he isn't Shorty, and don't you defend him, he's a man and can defend himself. Even though he can't use his fists well in a fight or shoot..."

"When did you even bother to teach me any of these things?" Mutt interrupted angrily, Indy swallowed hard as he was cut off and watched his son suddenly turn from annoyed to upset.

"You weren't in my life for nineteen years, Pops. I survived without a Dad since I was six years old, do you know what that's like? Being sent to all those preppy public schools in England and then private schools here? Having every kid brag about who their Dads are? Having their Dads at every ball game—"

Indiana went to put his hand on Mutt's arm, "kid—"

Mutt pulled his arm away before continuing, "—you missed every single significant event in my life! Hell if it wasn't for the Oxman I wouldn't have had a male role-model to talk to about girls, or even to teach me to shave—"

Indy looked remorseful, but interrupted nevertheless, "I know all this Mutt. You think I don't feel bad enough about all that already? You can't lay a guilt trip on me about missing being there while you were growing up that I haven't already beat myself up about already," he grabbed his son's shoulders. "I promised when I married your Mom that I'd make up for all that."

Mutt lifted his eyes, "then why are you trying to push me away now?" He demanded, "I want to work with you Dad. I want to be like you, is that too much to ask? That's why I stuck around, I wanted to learn everything you know. I went back to school like you wanted, I enrolled in your classes, I ask questions about your work all the time we're together...how much more a clue could you get?"

Indiana this time was definitely taken back. He himself had had very little interest in his own father's work, it was pressed upon him and apart from some aspects, Indy found it beyond dull. Meeting Howard Carter, and later Abner Ravenwood, had only fueled his desire to be an Archaeologist working in the field, far removed from the life of a scholarly lecturer like Henry Jones Snr...

_Then why did you dress like him from the moment you became a lecturer yourself?_ Indiana mentally berated himself.

He'd subconsciously adapted his teaching methods from those of his father he'd practically known from the cradle; Indy had run off to the war when he was seventeen to escape his father, only to return two years later to confront him, separate from him to become his own man, only to find he was not so far removed from his father as he thought he'd become.

But Mutt...the kid was a lost soul from the moment Indiana had first spied him on that beast of a motorcycle. A boy trying to be a man and finding no steady role-model to show him how. Indy had had a father, a distant one, but one that had loved him and thought of what was best for him, (in his opinion, but at least Henry Jones Snr had tried.)

Indiana wanted so much to give Mutt that steady father figure, he had been blind to what the young man had really needed. His son was all but grown-up, he didn't need someone to lecture to him or make sure he ate his vegetables and washed behind his ears. Mutt needed a role-model and a companion to teach him how to be a man, how to look for something beyond being a motorcycle mechanic for the rest of his life.

Mutt had grown up hearing stories about his grandfather Abner and stories about Indy's exploits as well. He craved knowledge of ancient worlds and adding his own mark in the continuing knowledge of history, just like his father...just like his grandfathers...

_But he's not ready, he isn't. I have to teach him all these things... I don't think he even knows how to ride a horse or crack a whip...it's going to take a while. I'll just have to make him see reason_.

Indy was about to apologize and take Mutt aside to talk to him privately, when the sound of the front and a cheerful voice ringing out interrupted them.

"Hey boys! I'm sorry I'm late, I got swamped, so I brought home dinner from that new little Italian place across the road from the store," the owner of the voice revealed herself to be Marion Jones, who stuck her head around the living room entrance, two large paper-bags in her arms.

She blinked her blue-eyes confusedly at the stand-off going on between her husband and their son, then peered around at the Chinese man standing nearby helplessly, "hello?" Marion directed the question generally.

Mutt snorted and walked over to his mother, kissing her cheek as he grabbed the bags from her arms, "Hi Mum. I'll take these into the kitchen," he marched off, leaving behind Marion, dressed simply in a brown, knee-length skirt, and patterned white blouse; to only glance helplessly after her fast disappearing son.

"Thank-you honey," Marion called out after Mutt, the fiery daughter of Abner Ravenwood turned her glare on her husband with a sigh as she tossed her green purse onto the coffee table. "What were you two fighting about now?" She demanded, placing her hands on her hips and tapping her fingers expectantly.

Indiana motioned to Li, "Marion, you remember Short Round, Wan Li, don't you?" He changed the subject. His dark-haired wife shot him daggers that quietly informed him that the subject was not dropped, but Marion smiled her charming, bright smile and offered her hand to Li, who shook it gently.

"I do. It has been a long time Dr Wan, you were still a little boy when I last saw you," Marion commented, Li nodded his head and smiled, clasping Marion's hand.

"Please call me Li. It's been over twenty-one years but you are as beautiful as ever, Marion. Willie and I informed your husband repeatedly he was a fool for letting you get away."

Marion blushed a little and chuckled, "Indy learns slowly, Dr Wan. I'd think you know that well from your previous adventures with him," she linked her arm through her husband's, "won't you join us for dinner, Li? There's more than enough."

Wan nodded, "thank-you, I will Marion," he followed the Jones' out of the living room and into the dining room.

They all stopped in the door way to watch Mutt, who was thumping down plates onto the plain white table-cloth with a deep scowl ingrained in his face. He lifted his eyes only once to throw the glare at his father, before turning his back on the mahogany table and rummaging in the side-cabinet for the cutlery.

Marion grabbed her husband's arm, "kitchen. Now." She hissed bluntly into his ear, looking around her guilty looking husband and smiling at their guest, "please sit down Li. Indy and I are going to get the food from the kitchen. Mutt, talk to Dr Wan about what you're studying at college."

Ravenwood-Jones grabbed Indy's arm and pulled him into the kitchen, Indiana yelping out a silent protest as his slender wife dragged him out of the dining room.

Mutt finished off placing the cutlery on the table, just as Li found a seat. The greaser sat down opposite the Shanghi native and pulled a cigarette packet from his pocket, "smoke?"

Dr Wan held up his hand, "thank-you, no. Your parents let you smoke in the house?" He queried as the younger man pulled a cigarette from his pocket and placed it in the corner of his mouth.

Jones the third lit the cigarette with his silver cigarette-lighter, then blew a circle of smoke over his head with a wide smirk in the Chinese Archaeologist's direction; leaning back on his chair as he tucked his lighter and cigarettes back in his left jacket pocket.

"Nope. So Dr Wan, you like motorcycles?"

Li gave Mutt a small smile and glanced to the side in the direction of the kitchen, where a muffled argument could already be heard.

-xxx-

Marion let go of her husband's arm once they were in the kitchen, "alright Jones, what did Mutt do now?"

Indy rubbed his arm and looked down at his wife, "nothing."

Ravenwood-Jones gave him her famous glare, but sighed, "then what did _you_ do?" She invoked, walking around to the other side of the kitchen bench to start pulling out containers of food, Indiana walked over to her side to help.

"I didn't do anything eith..." Indiana caught Marion's disbelieving expression and sighed himself as he tossed one of the empty brown bags into the bin. "Alright, Shorty's tracked down the Peacock's eye—"

Marion rolled her eyes as she turned around to pull open a cabinet door, "that old thing? So...you're planning to go with him? Where?" She stood on tip-toe to reach a bowl.

Indy reached over his wife and grabbed the red bowl for her, passing it into her hands, "Australia." He revealed as Marion grabbed a couple more bowl and piled them into her arms. "Well first of all, Shorty believes my old buddy Remy knows who might be trying to sell it around—"

Marion poured the pasta into a bowl and interrupted her husband with a raised brow, "and let me guess, our son wanted to go with you and you said no." She placed down the empty packaging and rubbed her brow, "Indy..."

Jones licked off a drop of Alfredo sauce that landed on his finger as he poured it out, "now honey, the kid not only needs to study but Mutt is nowhere near ready enough to follow at my usual pace—"

"He handled himself just fine in South America, and you're slowly down honey. I'm busy setting up the store, so I'm not tagging along to keep you out of trouble." Marion intermittented, dumping the last of the containers in the rubbish and turning around to place her arms around Indy's neck. "Mutt can help you—"

Indiana scowled and unlatched his wife's arms, "I'm not an invalid yet, Marion. And our son's good with a sword, but not a gun or his fists...and I'm guessing none of those prep schools had a program in whip cracking or jumping on a horse while it's in mid-gallop did they?" He invoked mildly, taking Marion's hands in his.

"Indy," Ravenwood-Jones ran her fingers over the backs of her husband's hands. "I think all those things can wait and I think his studies could be put on hold for a little while, or you could tutor him whenever you have a quiet moment—"

Indiana sighed and bent his head over his wife's, smelling her sweet fragrance of violets, "Marion..."

"—in his studies and anything else he's going to need to keep up with you," Marion lifted her blue eyes to lock firmly with her husband's hazel gaze.

"You pushed your father away because you thought you didn't have anything in common, and it took you nearly forty years to become friends. Mutt didn't have you as a child, he'll never admit it, but he needs you. He wants to be just like you—"

Indiana nodded and stroked the side of Marion's face, "I know. He told me just before you came home," he sighed deeply and nodded resignedly. "Alright. I don't like it, but I'll ask if he wants to come along."

Marion lifted up her husband's hand and kissed his palm, "good," she said gently, Indy pulled her into a soft kiss and his wife pulled back with a smile. "It would be good for Mutt to get out of the house," she paused to pick up one of the bowls. "He hasn't been himself since the wedding to be honest."

Indiana picked up a couple of bowls and the plate of garlic bread, with the ease of the former waiter he'd been during his first years at the University of Chicago. "Really? How so?"

Marion stopped mid-step and cocked her head to the side, "well, Mutt's been quiet. Too quiet. Usually he can talk your ear off...yes I know he gets that from me," she winked at the smirk on Indy's face.

"But he was always so full of life, even when the whole greaser appearance came in complete with motorcycle. We had a few fights, but he was always sweet, a charmer like his father to the point of distraction sometimes. I mean the endless parade of girls..."

Indiana snorted, "well that hasn't changed," he pointed out wryly, thinking of the amount of times he'd caught Mutt sneaking a girl in at night or out in the morning.

Marion shook her head, "no. Not just flings, Jones, I'm talking about girlfriends. Mutt has not brought one young woman here for dinner or to even meet us. He's not a teenager anymore and he's certainly not shy about bringing girls back here." She pursed her lips.

"I think he needs to get out and see the world, find the man he's meant to be, just like you did. Being grounded here is misery for him, our son is too much like us to be stuck in button-down suburbia the rest of his life," Marion sighed and smiled a little. "Let's give him a chance? Hmm?"

Indiana smiled, he'd missed that sweet persuasiveness of Marion all these years. "You're right," he kissed his wife for good measure as he pushed open the door into the dining room, "sometimes I wonder if you're ever wrong honey."

Marion chuckled as they walked over to the table, but her eyes instantly narrowed as she saw her son tapping ash onto his side-plate as he talked to Dr Wan, "Henry Walton Jones the third! Put out that cigarette right now young man," she ordered.

Mutt cleared his throat, "sorry Mum," he muttered and apology and straightened up in his chair as he put out the cigarette on the make-shift side-plate ashtray, Indiana rolled his eyes as he placed the food he was carrying down on the table and waited for Marion to sit down.

Marion nodded her head as she sat down, placing the large bowl of pasta in the centre of the table, "your father has something to say to you Henry," she informed her offspring, who grudgingly turned his gaze to his father expectantly.

Indy cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table, "first of all, Junior, I want you to lay off those cigarettes for a while—"

"Hey!" Mutt objected, rising up from his seat position as he protested, "you can't—"

"—and," Indiana continued, raising his hand to silence the gob-smacked young man. "I want you to keep up with your studies as well," he watched with an inward smirk at the bubbling annoyance on his son's face.

"I won't have you short of breath or lagging behind the rest of my class while we're traveling."

Mutt threw down his napkin, "God you are so unfair, I'm not a—wait a minute," his eyes went wide, "your letting—I mean, I'm coming with you guys?"

Indiana nodded his head and Mutt let out an exuberant laugh that sent his mother into a giggle at the amazed expression on her son's face as he slammed back in his seat, "you are, if Shorty doesn't object?" He turned to Li, who shook his head.

"I don't," he informed Indy, really the Chinese Archaeologist found Mutt interesting, the whole greaser thing seemed to be a protective front. The kid seemed to be more like his father every moment Li knew him.

Indy nodded, "its settled then," he looked back over at where Mutt's eyes were glinting with anticipation and he looked like a child whose birthdays had all come at once. His eyes crinkled in the corners, _trouble maybe, but he's all Jones_.

Marion got up and carried a bowl of salad over to her son, who was still in shock, "here sweetie, have some salad," she doled out the salad onto Mutt's place and kissed the top of his head, winking over at Indy, _thank-you_, she mouthed.

_Right back at you_, Indiana mouthed, helping himself to some of the pasta, "Shorty, why don't you fill in Marion on what we're up to," he invited.

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**There we have it. I promise the next chapters will be a little shorter.**

**Review at will and thank-you for reading. :)**


	2. London, England, September 1959

**Thank-you to everyone who read the first chapter. I hope you enjoy chapter 2.**

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**II**

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_Somewhere over the Atlantic ocean..._

**T**he plane journey would first take them to London, then they were flying to Bombay and finally boarding the migrant/tourist ship _Southern Cross,_ for the final leg to Melbourne Australia.

Shorty had suggested the sea-passage part of the journey, saying that it would be better to arrive in the port; and it would be least expected if anyone was tailing them, they would expect the plane trip from Hong-Kong to Australia, not traveling at a much slower speed.

Indy had no objections. He'd done a lot of sea-voyagers as a child and missed the calmness of being out in the ocean instead of high off the ground. Mutt looked a little queasy when told of the duration the trip would run, but became quite interested in the brochures about the ship-board activities.

The aforementioned brochures were piled in amongst books and other guides about Australia, and as they crossed the Atlantic on a commercial flight Mutt persistently asked questions of his two companions; leaning over the top of the chair in front of him to question Dr Wan and tossing questions aside to his father.

The two Archaeologists patiently answered all Mutt's questions, and listened to the young man's ramblings from various books about Alexander the Great and the value of diamonds throughout history.

"_Diamonds_," Mutt read out from a large textbook sprawled across his lap, "_from the ancient Greek αδάμας (adámas), meaning 'proper,' 'unalterable,' 'unbreakable,' or 'untamed,' from ἀ- (a-) plus __δαμάω__ (__damáō__), 'I overpower, I tame.'_ " He mumbled thoughtfully.

Indy had to smile a little at his son's perfect ancient Greek, _Grandpa Jones would be proud of that_, he leaned over and pointed to the text in the textbook underneath the meaning of the word diamonds. "That's right. You see the Indians were the first to recognise the potential of diamonds, right here," he tapped the page.

"..._significant alluvial deposits of the stone could be found many centuries ago along the rivers Penner, Krishna and Godavari._ They've been known in India for at least three thousand years and more likely up to six thousand years."

Mutt nodded his head and Dr Wan leaned around his chair to join in the conversation.

"You see Mutt, the ancient Indians treasured diamonds as religious icons and Alexander the Great was regarded as a demi-God or deity. Gifting him with a statue with such a well cut, beautiful diamond was an honour beyond just honouring the General, it was practically deification." Li informed the college student, who nodded.

Indiana pointed to a sketch of a perfect looking gemstone, "the eye is very similar to this. Its perfect and delicate, I would stake my life on it being a paragon, its practically flawless," Dr Jones remembered holding the diamond for the smallest moment.

Mutt nodded again and turned his head to look out of the window, "I haven't been to London in eleven years," he murmured, a trace of nostalgia in his voice. "It's amazing what can happen in a little over a decade," Jones the III looked down at his hands.

"I don't even think I'd recognise myself as a kid. My accent's changed, my ideals and outlook on life have changed...and I don't know if that makes me happy or sad," Mutt confided to his father, who nodded sympathetically and squeezed his son's shoulder.

"I know how you feel. We all get that nostalgic emotion about what we were like as a child when we visit places we grew up in," Indy rubbed his brow with his free hand. "When I left for the great war, I was still a boy, I came back to America a man and completely lost. I had to find myself again, find the me I was supposed to become."

Indy nodded towards the seat in front of him, "Shorty's parents were killed when he was ten, I looked after him for a while before finding an Aunt and Uncle in America to take care of him. He's been back to Shanghai since then, but never stays long."

Mutt sighed, sometimes his father would deliberately leave stories blunt and it seemed to be happening a lot lately, he wondered if it was old age or smug wisdom as he got used to being an Associate Dean of a college. "I know there's a point to those stories, so let's have it daddy-o," he invited the response from his father, _here comes Confucius' wisdom_...

Indy smiled, "you have to remember where you've come from in order to figure out where you're going to go. But you can't live in the past. You have to live in the now so that you can plan for a better future," he patted Mutt's shoulder as he withdrew his hand. "But, by the same token, you can always _visit_ the past to help you find your way."

Mutt rolled his eyes and chuckled, "this from an Archaeology professor," he pointed out, making his father laugh himself at the irony. "Yeah, I think I get your point, Dad. Do you think a trip to South London is in order?"

Indiana nodded and pushed down the brim of his fedora as he settled back for a nap, "why not? We have a few hours to kill before the flight to Bombay and your Uncle Ox said he'd meet us at Heathrow," he yawned and leaned back. "Keep reading kid, it can only help."

Mutt snorted, "yeah, right," he closed his textbook and pulled out _King Solomon's Mines_, flipping open the well-worn novel with his right hand, and then propped up his left elbow on the armrest so he could lean his cheek against his fist. His eyes falling upon the familiar text with a yawn, "planes are such a drag..."

"You wanna go home?" Indiana suddenly invoked, startling his son, who peered across at his father, who was smirking under his tipped fedora.

"No. I'm just peachy," Mutt lifted back up his novel, he heard snoring and glanced to the side to see his father was sleeping peacefully, not making a sound. Sighing, he got up from his chair and peered over the seats in front to see Dr Wan's head had dropped and he was fast asleep as well.

Mutt tutted and pulled Li's glasses off, folding them up and placing them on the pile of books on the empty chair beside the Chinese doctor.

"What a way to travel," the young man grumbled, flopping back into his chair and scratching the back of his neck as he picked back up his novel. _No girls and two boring Professors. This trip better start improving or I'm just going to stay with the Oxman in Oxford, even his lectures on the cholera mummies in Mexico are more tolerable than this._

-xxx-

_Heathrow Airport, London England_

Harold Oxley let out a delighted laugh as he pulled Mutt into a huge hug, "it's so good to see you young man," he announced, Mutt smiled over the old Professor's shoulder as the shorter man pulled him back.

"When did you get so grown-up? You must spend next summer in my Cambridge classes, we'll be traveling to Peru to investigate the new burial chambers I uncovered last year!"

Mutt forced a thin-lipped smile, mostly as not to disappoint the exuberant looking Oxford lecturer who had helped raise him, "oh...yay," he tried to sound excited. "Can't wait."

Oxley smiled broadly and turned to Indy and offered his hand, which his fellow Archaeologist grasped firmly with his free hand, the other clutching his worn suitcase, "Henry, it's good to see you. Marion is well?" He asked conversationally.

Indiana nodded his head, "busy as all get go on that new venture of hers," he motioned to Li. "This is my friend, Dr Wan Li, I'm sure you remember me telling you about him."

Harold shook Dr Wan's hand with a smile, "a pleasure. Well, shall we find a good café and I'll get you gents a nice cup of tea?"

Indy shook his head, "actually, Mutt and I were going to go to Bromley, he wanted to show me where he spent his childhood," he mentioned mildly, Dr Wan raised his hand.

"I however will defiantly take you up on that cup of tea, Dr Oxley. Indy, Mutt, I'll see you back here at eight. Now what was that about burial chambers in Peru Dr Oxley?" Li inclined his head and he and Harold set off across the terminal, chatting away like old friends about Ox's last dig.

Indy shook his head defeatedly, "I never figured Shorty for turning into a nerdy Professor, but Princeton does funny things to a person, case and point," he waved his hand in his friend's direction, then turned to his son with a grin. "Well, let's find a cab so you can get nostalgic, Pup."

-xxx-

_Bromley, South London, England._

The black cab drove along the picturesque roads, Indy smiled broadly as he looked out of the window, admiring the stately houses dotted with the muted greens and flora of England in late Summer.

"You know, I'd forgotten how much I loved London at this time of year; in Spring, though, it's even better," he grinned in memory. "It reminds me of my first real romance, just before I shipped off to war in nineteen sixteen..."

Mutt smiled, "I prefer Autumn, it always remind me of my first dog. He was crazy about diving into piles of leaves after Mum racked them into piles in the backyard." He rested his chin on his fist.

"Osborne was a great dog. He was a Border Collie Ox brought me back from Scotland."

Indy raised his eyebrows and glanced aside at his son, "so...you didn't name yourself after a dog called Mutt?" He invoked, mildly surprised.

Dr Jones' son shot him a wry look, "just because _you're_ crazy enough to name yourself after your dog, doesn't mean I am," Mutt pulled out his comb and smoothed back his hair.

"Mutt was...uh...a nickname the other greasers at school called me because I was real skinny...you know, like the Mutt character in the _Mutt and Jeff_ comics?"

Indiana snorted and didn't think he could stop himself from laughing out loud, he couldn't and started laughing his head off, "all this time I thought you had a dog called Mutt; instead you're named after a comic book character?" He choked out.

Mutt smirked and nodded, "yep. It didn't help that my best friend at that High School _was_ called Jeffery either," he added, Indy wiped his eyes and shook his head. "Well it beats being named after the dog, and you can forget me calling any of your grandkids _Indiana_."

Indy waved his hand, "when, and _if_, I ever get a grandchild, you can call it Cicero for all I care," he smirked at that joke and Mutt poked out his tongue at his father.

"Yeah, yeah old man. Here we are," he changed the subject as a rather large, two story stone house with a blue tiled roof came into view.

The house had a picturesque white picket-fence out the front, and the front gate was housed under a cute wooden arch with a similar blue-tiled roof as the house, draped in honey-suckle; the windows of the house had dark blue shutters and matching blue flower-boxes filled with various colours of pansies, snapdragons and stocks. Under the flower-boxes were beds of cheerful, sweet purple violets.

There was an impressive looking line of perfect lavender along the stone path that lead to the house; when father and son stepped out of the cab after paying and headed over to the entrance-gate, Indy was immediately struck by the spicy sent of honey-suckle, combined with the musky scent of English lavender.

Mutt took in a deep breath and smiled as he pushed open the gate, "it smells like home," he admitted with a small smile.

Indy smiled as they walked along the stone path. "I know now why your mother always keeps dry lavender on her dresser and uses perfume of violets; I have to surprise her with a flower-garden for her birthday," Indiana followed his son up to the thick, blue wooden door that looked original.

"Who lives here now? Or are you looking happy because you spied a good-looking girl in the window?"

Mutt straightened his leather jacket and pointed out at the garden, "only one woman could grow violets and lavender that well. Mom left the house to Maria Renata and her husband Franco when we left for America, and I'll bet they're still here." He fixed up his hair.

"Maria was our housekeeper and Franco was our handyman; Maria also dabbled in gardening and used to help Mum with flowerbeds. She was also my Nanny when I was little, they had little boy who was about four when we left, Enrico, named after me," Mutt explained, pocketing his comb.

Indy smirked to himself_, oh good, a practically unbiased party that can give me some more dirt on how my son grew up_, he immediately began formulating questions in his head as Mutt leaned forward and rapped the cast-iron knocker a couple of times.

There was the muted sound of some footsteps, and the door opened up slowly. A pretty, middle-aged lady, with her dark hair pulled back from her face in a braid coiled around her head, peered around the side.

"Can I help you two gentleman?" The woman invoked with a heavy accent.

Mutt's face split in a wide smile and nodded, "absolutely Maria, could you let me show my father my old room and please, please tell me you've baked some of those biscotti of yours?" He begged.

The woman's head tilted to the side and her very red lips split into a cautious smile, "Henry? My little Henry?" Maria demanded, Mutt nodded and the Italian woman let out a happy cry and threw her slender arms around the young man's neck, kissing his face repeatedly.

"Oh I've missed you so much Maria," Mutt admitted with a slight glassiness entering his eyes.

Maria pulled back, "I have missed you too. Now let me get a good look at you _bambino_," she studied her former charge, "turn around for your old Nanny," she further instructed, Indy chuckled as Mutt obediently spun around for the charming Italian.

"_Santa Maria_, you're all grown-up!" Maria leaned in and kissed Mutt again, pulling him into another hug, "my little Henry is a man."

Indiana suppressed the laughter at the slightly disgruntled expression on his son's face as his former Nanny fussed over him.

Mutt patted Maria's shoulder gently, "yeah I am. Maria this is my father, Henry Jones junior; Dad, this Maria Renata," Mutt motioned between the two as Maria pulled back and Indiana took her offered hand.

"It's a pleasure Signora Renata," Indy shook the pale hand gently and Maria smiled charmingly.

"Likewise Dr Jones, your wife, Marion, she writes to me about the wedding and you really being our little Henry's father," she grabbed Mutt's arm. "Now please, both of you come inside and I'll put on some coffee."

Maria dragged Mutt inside the front room and Indiana followed behind, closing the door behind them.

"I made two batches of biscotti yesterday, someone was telling me I was going to have visitors, I thought of you _bambino_, perhaps it was Mr Williams came to tell me; God rest his soul," Maria made the sign of the cross, and used her free hand to lift up and kiss the little silver cross on a chain around her neck.

Indiana had forgotten how auspicious most Italian people were, it was charming to not only see the reaction of Maria to such an idea; but also all of the religious artefacts placed around the house, it reminded him again of Italy...and the honeymoon he and Marion had spent there.

"Your family wouldn't be Venetian, would they Signora?" Indiana voiced as he followed his son and the slender Italian woman through the dining room and into the kitchen.

Maria glanced over her shoulder at the grey-suited Archaeologist, "si Doctor, how did you know that?" She questioned, motioning to the kitchen table and both father and son sat down at the circular table, covered with a hand-embroidered, lace table cloth.

Indiana shrugged and smiled as the woman in the simple blue dress walked over to a cabinet to pull out some small espresso cups and matching plates, "I study linguistics as well as archaeology, plus I've spent a lot of time in Venice."

Maria walked over with the percolator she'd lifted from the stove with her free hand, and placed the cup and saucers down on the table, "ah Venezia," she smiled and Indy nodded agreeably as Maria began pouring out the coffee.

"Ah Venezia."

Mutt graciously took his coffee, "so Maria, where are Franco and Enrico?" He inquired, taking a sip from the small cup as his former Nanny walked over to a biscuit container, opening up the silver box and placing it on the table in front of her guests.

"Franco went to go pick up Enrico from school, they should be home soon. You will stay yes? Eat, eat," Maria said all in a running sentence.

Mutt leaned over to appreciatively smell the intoxicating sent of pistachio and hazelnut from the biscuits laid out on the table and eagerly grabbed a pile, "you don't have to tell me twice, Maria. Sure we can stick around, right Pops?" His inquiry was muffled by a large mouthful of biscotti.

Indiana nodded, helping himself to a few of the thin biscuits, "absolutely, our plane doesn't leave for another five hours Signora," he took a bite and his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. "_Mama mia_…strike me down if that isn't the best biscuit I've ever eaten!"

Maria giggled, almost like a school girl as she sat down, "grazie Doctor. Henry's resemblance to you is remarkable in many ways, he gets his charm from you too, no?" She reached over to pinch Mutt's cheek with a wide smile. "So handsome. You have _molte donne giovani_ chasing you bambino?"

Indy let out a small laugh, "ha! _Molte, molte donne giovani_, Signora Renata," he commented, making Mutt glare over at him good naturedly.

Maria tutted, "you must not be a _cavaliere errante_ bambino," she scolded.

Mutt pointed over at his father, "oh I am _not_ a tramp Maria, and if I am I get it from _mio Papa_," he shuffled in his seat. "_Ho appena non hanno trovato la ragazza giusta ma_..."

"Ho ho," Maria chuckled as Indiana rolled his eyes at his son's words, Renata waggling her figure at the young man, "you haven't found the right girl yet because you are not looking for her! I may not have raised you to manhood, bambino, but I knew the child you very well."

Indy nodded and reached for the percolator, "and I know the adult you very well, pup, and I say the same," he enjoyed his son's disgruntled look in his direction. "Hey, by your age I'd had four steady girlfriends, I'm yet to see you have one." Indy poured more espresso into his cup.

Mutt folded his arms, "_La donna è mobile_, girls now days don't like going steady unless you're a pretty blond singer; do I look like Jan or Dean to you?" He insisted, tapping his fingers on the table. God he wanted a cigarette, but he'd promised his father no smoking...

Thankfully, Mutt was spared further embarrassment when there was the sound of the side door opening, and short, tanned, greying haired man in a simple shirt and grey pants with braces, entered with a flourish. He was closely followed by a skinny, dark haired teen (in a public school uniform with his satchel slung over his shoulder,) who already towered over his father.

"Franco, hey!" Mutt eagerly walked over to the startled man and pulled him into a hug, pulling back, "it's me, Mu...err, Henry."

Franco looked up at his wife's former charge, "no? Little Henry?" His smile split his pleasant features and he pulled Mutt down to his level, kissing his cheeks. "Ha ha! You've got so tall, and," he put his arm around the young man's shoulders, "what is with the funny accent eh? You lost yours in America, si?"

Mutt chuckled and kissed the top of Franco's head, "si, si, you managed to keep yours," he turned and looked startled, "Enrico? How are you kid?" Henry Jones III offered his hand to the youth, who's smile was identical to his charming mother's.

"Just fine Henry, just fine. You're all American now? You look just like Marlon Brando in _The Wild One_!" Enrico's eyes lit up, "do you have a motorcycle, Henry?"

Mutt nodded and matched the kid's smile, "you bet I do. Harley Davidson, she's the prettiest thing in the world," he put his arm around Enrico's shoulders, "you gotta come to America some time, I'll let you take her for a spin."

Maria tutted, "oh no you don't bambino! Dr Jones, how do you let your son ride around on such a dangerous machine, eh?" She demanded.

Indy sighed and lifted his cup to his lips, "boys will be boys, Signora Renata, and my boy is a man now, and I can't control what he drives around," he replied. His charm only earning a glare from Maria and Indiana turned his eyes downwards, suddenly very interested in the embroidery on the tablecloth as he sipped his espresso.

-xxx-

Mutt led his father out into the backyard, it was just as impressively surrounded by flora as the front yard, "whoa," the young man jokingly grabbed his father's arm as if to stop himself from falling over. "It hasn't changed a bit out here!"

Indiana watched Mutt rush across the grass to a rather imposing looking old oak tree; its gnarled branches stretched over a great deal of the small yard, casting shifting shadows over the perfectly cut grass.

The archaeologist strolled over to where his son was looking up into the branches of the aforementioned oak tree, a smirk plastered across his tanned features as he studied the closest over-hanging branch.

"When I was about eight, nearly nine, I was foolin' around on this very branch, trying to impress Emily Mason. She was our next-door neighbor, blonde, curly hair and a whole year older than me," Mutt recalled, jamming his hands in his jacket pockets.

"I tried flips, handstands, and you know, like a tightrope walker," Mutt pulled his hands out of his pockets to demonstrate his point, "nothin' was impressing her, right? So," he reached up and grabbed a hold of the branch, pulling himself up and onto the thick grey bough and straddling it.

"I try to do a flip in mid-air and land back on my feet, but I was barefoot and I slipped off the branch and smashed into the ground. I broke my collar-bone in two places, my left forearm and twisted my ankle." Mutt flipped over so his legs were dangling him from the branch and he smiled at his amused looking father from his upside-down position.

Indy folded his arms as he regarded his son, "and did _that_ impress Emily Mason?"

Mutt put his arms behind his neck, "you bet, daddy-o. She brought me sweets for a full month after I was back at school...before she caught me sharing them with Katie Parker at lunch," he flipped off the bough and landed on his booted feet, straightening up and chuckling. "That was the end of that."

Indiana walked closer to the oak tree and looked at a carving in the thick trunk, "C.W loves M & H.W," he read, tracing his fingers over the carving in a circle, before glancing across at where Mutt had sided up, placing his hand on the carving. "Do you remember a lot about your step-father, Henry?"

Mutt cocked his head to the side, "I wish I did. I have a few memories of playing football with him in the park, feeding the ducks, being pushed on the swing, hugging me...tucking me into bed, reading Winne-the-Pooh...and I remember him liking to do all the different voices."

Indiana swallowed hard as a wave of jealousy flowed over him, Colin had been a nice guy, but Mutt was his son. He should have had the opportunity to do all those things, have memories of what Mutt was like as a little boy, not only photographs.

"I was five the last time I saw him, I remember him picking me up and hugging me so tight. '_Look after your mother_, _and you keep growing big and strong,_' were the last words he said before walking down the path and out the gate to a waiting car. Mom cried a lot...I...I just stood there." Mutt recollected, he wiped his eyes.

"He'll always be my Dad...just in a different way, I guess."

Indiana nodded, "I had a lot of mentors I felt the same way about, like your Grandfather Abner and my friend Marcus," he put his hand on Mutt's shoulder. "But I'm here for you now, Junior, I always will be," Indy assured his son.

"I know, Dad, sometimes it feels like you always have been," Mutt commented as they turned and started to walk back towards the house. "Mum would mention some of your exploits from time to time, never when Oxman was around, he was really angry at you."

Indy chuckled, "I know. What stories?" He invoked curiously.

Mutt shrugged his shoulders, "mostly stuff you got up to when you were on digs with Abner, and a little bit about your search for the Ark of the Covenant; not in any great detail and Mum filled in the blanks after you guys got hitched, about you actually finding it." He shuddered.

"Creepy man, _real_ creepy."

Henry Jones the II laughed, "you thought _that_ was creepy? I have been through even creepier scenarios, I'll tell you all about them...but first," he halted his son and looked him up and down.

"Were you always planning on traveling around the world dressed like an extra from _The Wild One_?"

Mutt scratched the side of his nose and sniffed affectedly, "well..."

Indy raised an eyebrow, "did you pack nothing to wear _but_ converses and t-shirts?" He tried to keep a smirk off his face at his only child's sheepish expression. "You're going to cause trouble running around like that...and not the kind you're hoping for either Pup." Indy added after seeing a glint in Mutt's eyes.

"So, err," Mutt folded his arms over his chest, "what are you gettin' at, Pops?"

Indiana folded his own arms, "what I'm 'gettin' at,' genius, is that you can't run around in the wilderness, or be in civilized areas, dressed like a biker. I thought you would have learnt that after wearing tight jeans in a South American jungle," he pointed out with a wry raise of his brow.

Mutt bit his lower lip, chewing thoughtfully, "I guess you're right..." He started to say thoughtfully, before Indy grabbed his arm and interrupted.

"Of course I'm right. C'mon kid, we're going shopping."

-xxx-

_Heathrow Airport, London, England._

Mutt pulled down the fitted brown suit-jacket with a frown, "I look ridiculous..."

Indy lowered his newspaper and looked over from his position seated across from his son in the airport lounge, "no, you look _civilized_, and more like an archaeology student than a delinquent," he pulled back up his newspaper. "Go get yourself a drink, we still have half-an- hour before we leave."

Henry Jones the III rolled his eyes and got to his feet, "I'm going to the bathroom first," he mumbled, marching off in the direction of the gents restroom sign.

Mutt slipped into the bathroom and took a quick look over himself in the mirror. The suit was actually not half bad; it wasn't a stuffy, old fashioned style, it was the latest design and matched with a thick black tie against a white shirt, Mutt actually looked professional.

But still, there was that greaser kid part of him that was howling in protest in the back of his mind. He hadn't even worn a full suit at his parent's wedding...

Whipping out his comb, Mutt sufficed for smoothing back his hair into its usual coif and loosening the tie, "it'll have to do," he muttered, slipping his comb back into his pocket and exiting the restroom.

He made a bee-line for the bar and ordered a scotch and coke, wondering back over to where he'd left his father, he found Dr Li and Dr Oxley now seated across from Indy, they all looked over as Mutt approached and Harold's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Henry...in a suit? However did you manage to get him into one of those, Indy?" Oxley teasingly questioned Indiana, who chuckled as Mutt indignantly flopped beside his father on the seat beside him.

"He didn't 'manage,' me into it, Oxman, I agreed that looking like a greaser is not a good way to travel around the world, especially not on a plane and a passenger ship," Mutt took a sip of his drink and Harold just smiled broadly in response.

"I think it's because you're finally growing up," Oxley took out his handkerchief and dabbed his eyes. "Oh, it seems like just yesterday Marion brought you home all red and wrinkly from the hospital, you were so cute—"

Mutt swirled his glass and looked cheeky, "I'm _still_ cute, Oxman," he replied, Indiana reached over pinched his son's cheek teasingly, "hey!"

Li laughed, "I think Harold's ready to be a godfather to your grandchildren, Indy," he commented, as Mutt snorted at that remark and went back to his drink. "I was showing him the pictures of my son Quin and Harold was telling me stories about Mutt." He turned to the annoyed looking Henry Jones the III.

"Did you really refuse to shake Winston Churchill's hand when he gave you and your mother your step-father's _Victoria cross_? Harold told me you went and hid yourself in the corner of his office."

Indiana turned in surprise to the idea of such behavior from his bold son, and Mutt scratched his temple and nodded.

"Yeah...I still refused to believe Colin had died; the Prime Minister was really nice though. He coaxed me out of the corner with a chocolate bar and Mum and I were invited back to his house for dinner with Lady Churchill. I still didn't shake his hand at the end of the night though," Mutt swirled his drink. "I gave him a hug."

Indy chuckled, "I met Churchill a couple of times. A young lady I was dating the first time I met him said you either love him, or hate him, and sometimes both at the same time. I thought he was brilliant," he put his arm around Mutt's shoulders.

"I'm glad you got to meet him, there's very few men like Churchill left in the world."

-xxx-

Off to the corner of the airport lounge, a sharp-featured, fair haired woman was watching the Joneses and their two companions talk, she narrowed her blue eyes at the sight of Indiana Jones putting his arm around whom was very obviously his son.

"Lao," she whispered into the phone, her voice accented. "I've located them. They seem quite relaxed, not suspecting any trouble. I'll suggest that we wait for them to secure the item first, they're traveling to Australia," the woman paused as the voice on the other end yelled in Mandarin.

"Yes—no—you agree then?" The woman systematically interjected between the rants of her Chinese contractor, who barked out his terms. "Yes. We won't follow them to Australia, too far from where we know the item's true—yes—fine. I'll see you then."

The woman hung up the phone and, taking one last look over at the Joneses and their companions before slipping away into the crowd of travelers and airport personnel.

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**Thank-you for reading. Please leave a review if you like. **


	3. Australia, Melbourne, October 1959

**Thanks for the reviews everyone. This chapter is just a short bridging chapter, and interlude if you will, to get back into the swing of things. I hope you enjoy. :)**

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**III**

_Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, aboard the Southern Cross..._

**M**utt leant over the side-railing of the big ocean liner, the cool night air was mixed with the rejuvenating salty scent of the sea and the young man, (who hadn't been on any other ship besides the ferry to Long Island,) took in a deep breath and smiled broadly.

The right upper deck was strung with bright lights and many passengers were out for a night-time stroll before dinner was served. Henry Jones III glanced over his shoulder occasionally at a pretty young woman going past...who was inevitably followed by a sharp dressed man.

Mutt grew bored with looking out at the ocean, (and scoping for girls,) and instead turned around to walk back over to the bench he'd commandeered, located near the cabin he was sharing with his father. Piled up on the white bench were his pile of books full off notes and bookmarks, plus several new books Oxley had gifted him before they'd left.

"_Poetry, Henry," Harold revealed as Mutt flipped open one of the books to inspect it. "Australia has many fine poets. The best are the ones they call Bush Poets. My personal favourite is this man here." Oxley passed the younger Jones a red leather bound book._

_Mutt read the author's name. "A.B Patterson?"_

_Indiana leant over his son and smiled, "his nickname is 'Banjo' Patterson. He was a lawyer by trade wasn't he Ox?" He questioned and Harold nodded. "He was close friends with Rudyard Kipling, I think."_

_Oxley nodded, "Indeed he was. Kipling thought very highly of him. They were together during the Great War, in India. Correspondence," he revealed. _

_Mutt flicked through the pages. "So...war poetry?"_

_Oxley chuckled, "No, no Henry. Bush poetry. Tales about the people who lived in the country areas of Australia. Larrikins, drovers, mountain men and the Australia Stockmen, who are bit like your American cowboys..." he trailed off to glance ironically over Indy. _

"_...or your father."_

Harold had pointed out several poems, his favourite being _Waltzing Matilda_, which had been turned into a song. Mutt flicked through the book before he arrived at the other poem Oxley had been quite adamant he read.

"_The Man from Snowy River_," Henry said out loud, just as his father exited from their cabin in a dinner suit, adjusting his tie.

"That the one Ox suggested you read?" Indy walked around and pushed aside the pile of books before sitting beside his son.

Mutt nodded. "Yeah, it's set in the Snowy Mountain country where we're headed," he scanned the writing.

Indiana smiled. "Read a bit for me, kid." He suggested, "poetry should be read out loud to get the full effect."

The younger man shrugged, "All right," he cleared his throat. "_There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around, that the colt from Old Regret had got away_..."

Mutt continued till the final line, absorbed in the visual beauty that sprung to mind from just a few stanzas of the verse, the smell of dust, the sound of a bullwhip. "..._the Man from Snowy River is a household word today. And the mountain men tell the story of his ride_." Mutt blinked his hazel eyes a couple of times "Wow..."

Indiana smiled, time and time again his son reminded him of how his father used to read, but obviously less jaded and certainly not lectures about Aristotle. "Wow." He agreed.

Mutt shook his head, "I didn't know poetry could be that exciting," he turned to his father. "Are the Snowy mountain men really like that?"

Indy nodded. "I met quite a few of them in the _Light Horse infantry_ when I was posted at Gaza and Beersheba in nineteen-seventeen. They are, without a doubt, the best horsemen in the world that I've ever seen, and the nicest people I've ever met." He reminisced, patting his son's knee.

"C'mon, Junior, Shorty's got us a place at the Captain's table, that means steak."

Mutt stomach growled and he tossed aside his book. "Yes sir!"

-xxx-

_St Kilda, Victoria, Australia._

The port of St Kilda was bustling with people welcoming in the _Southern Cross_, which was blowing its horn loudly over the excited cheering and waving of both passengers and the waiting crow on the dock.

When Dr Wan and the Joneses finally descended down the gangplank, Mutt was so happy to be back on solid ground, he was well prepared to fall to his knees and kiss the well trod on wooden planks of the dock repeatedly.

The ship had been interesting enough for the first week, after that the shuffleboard and onboard entertainment had quickly grown stale; and Mutt was well and truly sick of the sight of the ocean, as well as the pile of books he'd re-read again and again.

Li pulled out a piece of paper from the left breast pocket of his cream suit jacket. "Right, we will need to take a taxi to the train station and then the train into the Snowy Mountains," he announced to the Joneses. The elder of the Joneses inclined his head and looked aside at his son, who was looking around the waterfront with an eager glint in his eye.

"No time for exploring, junior, we gotta catch that train," Indy pointed out to his son, grabbing the younger man's arm and steering him towards the line up of waiting taxi-cabs.

-xxx-

_Melbourne, Victoria, Australia._

"_I found my thrill_..." Mutt muttered to himself, (his brown eyes hidden behind a pair of black wayfarers,) drumming his fingers against the wood of the bench in the _Melbourne Train Station_, it was bolted to the ticketing building. As he drummed his fingers, Jones adjoined this motion with thumping his head on the wooden wall of the aforementioned building, seeped in boredom.

"_...on Blueberry Hill..."_

Wan Li had his face pressed into his hands, trying to ignore his companion's repetitive singing.

".._on Blueberry Hill, where I found you_..."

Indiana finally emerged and waved the tickets. "Got 'em." He said triumphantly, sitting between his still muttering son and his former ward.

Li pulled away his hands from his face, "You were in there all that time just getting tickets?" The Chinese-born archaeologist invoked incredulously.

Indy shook his head and pulled out a telegram from his pocket and showed it to Li, "This as well." He revealed.

"..._the wind in the willow played_..."

"Hey!" Indiana shook Mutt's arm and waved the telegram in front of his son's sunglass shielded eyes. "It's from your Mom, and she's got news for you," he smirked. "Congratulations, you're going to be a Grandpa before I am."

Henry Jones the III stopped his boredom singing and scrambled up into a seated position from his slouching, "What?" He grabbed the piece of transcript from his father and in the same motion whipped off his sunglasses.

Scanning the telegram, Mutt groaned. "Diana's gotten herself knocked up! Oh man, bad girl, very, _very_ bad girl!" He complained, reading the rest of the note.

"Mom said at least we know the culprit, our neighbor Mr Lucas' malamute. He's going to look after Diana while Mom goes and visits Ox-man in Cambridge; then she said to send a message to her and she'll meet us here in Australia when we're done. Oh man, poor Diana..."

Indy patted his fuming son's shoulder. "Accidents happen, at least they'll be purebreds," he smirked. "Not _mutts_."

Mutt crumpled up the telegram and shoved it into his leather-jacket pocket, "Har har. I knew we should have gotten Diana fixed earlier," he shrugged. "Whatever, puppies are cute."

Li chuckled and got to his feet, "Well, you certainly got over that shock fast, Henry," he stretched out his arms and Mutt slipped back on his wayfarers as the whistling sound in the distance.

"Don't you go sounding like Ox-man, Dr Wan, it's Mutt..."

Indy snorted, "Yeah, till the day you meet the broad that won't put up dating, or marrying a guy named after a comic-book character," he rested his arm on Mutt's shoulder. "If you're going to go for a comic book name, how about Clark Kent?"

"Can it, Daddy-O."

The heavy shuffling sound and rising steam that gashed around the tracks and floated up the platform from the puffing-billy, nearly drowned out Mutt's reply; as the two archaeologists and the bored looking archaeology student waited for the doors to be open and the stairs to be kicked out so they could board.

"Not the mild-mannered reporter type, huh? How about Bruce Wayne?" Indy suggested out of the corner of his mouth as the porter hopped down from the train entrance and clipped their tickets as the senior Jones handed them over.

Mutt swung up into the train entrance, ignoring the stairs, "Not paying attention..."

"Hey junior, what about Billy Batson? _Shazam_!" Indiana exclaimed as he followed his son into the carriage.

"Actually that doesn't sound half-bad..."

Dr Li followed them up, but paused on the last metal stairs as he looked up into the carriage at his youngest travel companion with surprise, "_Really_? Well I suppose Billy isn't as bad as—"

"Oh yeah _really_ Dr Li...? _No_!"

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**There, more reviews keeps me uploading chapters, I think it's a fair deal. Let me know what you think. ;)**


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